


Highway Unicorn Robbery

by demonologistindenim



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Food Porn, Gen, SPN Coldest Hits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonologistindenim/pseuds/demonologistindenim
Summary: What would it take for a cake to tempt Dean? Unfortunately, Crowley is about to find out. Set in the canon-divergent world of Bergamot & Sulphur, but can be read as a stand-alone. Written for the April 2020 SPN Coldest Hits challenge.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: SPNColdestHits





	Highway Unicorn Robbery

Dean walked halfway into the bunker’s kitchen before catching sight of the bright, cheerful thing sitting on the counter.

“What the hell is that?”

Crowley looked up from where he had been assembling the last of the macarons, the others already stacked in between the swirling towers of pink and fuchsia frosting.

“Charlie’s birthday cake, of course. I believe I mentioned I intended to craft the cake myself.” He set the bulging pastry bag of flamboyantly pink swiss meringue buttercream frosting aside and wiped his hands on the pristine, white chef’s apron tied round his dark, heather grey henley and jeans. “You _do_ remember the party’s tomorrow, don’t you? I would hate for the little care bear to think Dean Winchester forgot about her birthday.”

“You know she’s turning _thirty_ -five, right? Not five.”

The former King of the Crossroads snorted. “Spare me. She’ll love it. She’d better, all the effort and expense it’s taken me.”

Ever since Crowley had judiciously closed the Gates of Hell after the aborted apocalypse and permanently thrown his lot in with the Winchesters – as he indifferently preferred to put, fooling absolutely no one – he had become appreciative of and adept at attending to the multitude of fault lines in the lives of the Winchesters and their friends. Extensively revising supernatural lore, providing safe havens and in-depth training for hunters, developing an exhaustive array of spells, weapons, networks, resources, contacts and happier futures for the beleaguered do-gooders he’d come to consider family and friends. And, if he liked to play around in the Winchester’s kitchen, making luxurious culinary creations, Dean wasn’t about to complain.

“Come on, Crowley. You know you can’t fool me. You love doing this sort of thing.” He winked teasingly at Crowley, who rolled his eyes before returning to his work.

There were a few chunky crumbs from the cake pans scattered about the table, which was unlike the usually fastidious baker. Dean gathered them up and popped them into his mouth. Better than he’d expected. Delicious, even. He appraised the vibrantly-colored confectionary with new appreciation and a touch of mischievous hunger.

Dean had to admit, if only to himself, it was an impressive cake. And he could tell Crowley desired an audience. So he leaned against the counter across from the demon holding a pastry bag, and the multi-colored, sugary jewel-encrusted macarons, and the pink and purple explosion of exuberance, and magnanimously waved a hand at Crowley to continue. It couldn’t hurt to indulge in a little food porn.

Crowley went on to describe the cake. Its six spongey layers of whorled magenta, turquoise and dark amethyst crumb, flavored with the essence of summer-ripe strawberries. The thick, creamy layers of white swiss meringue buttercream between those layers. Already, Dean found himself with a strong hankering for sugary indulgence. The exterior of the cake was comprised of four tiers of frosting. The bottom was ringed in a bright turquoise, then it faded up into a Persian blue – a color Dean had never before known had a name until Crowley had so kindly pointed it out – then a plush, royal purple, and then finally into a bold magenta ringing the top of the cake.

Dean’s finger came dangerously close to that alluring whorl of color. Surely the cake could spare a glob here or there. Without breaking his descriptive monologue, Crowley swatted the hunter’s hand away.

The frosting might have continued spinning into a wild berry fuchsia across the cake’s plateau, but no one would ever know, because the bright outburst of color took the form of swirling towers of hot pink frosting. To Dean’s eye, it looked like the top of the cake was crowned with frothy, luscious soft-serve ice cream all along the edge of this sweet climax. In between these citadels of sugar, Crowley had delicately piled countless macarons, boasting the same bright color combinations as the rest of the cake. Each was filled with a swirl of multi-colored buttercream and sprinkled with what Crowley called purple pony and rainbow sprinkles, with a final dusting of gold star sprinkles. The macarons were flavored fairy floss, whatever the hell _that_ was.

And because that wasn’t enough – Dean could already imagine Charlie’s eyeballs bursting out of her head at the sight of this thing, the joyous clapping of hands with a bit of a bounce that was sure to follow – Crowley had tossed more of those sprinkles all around the base of the cake.

And then – and this was the real kicker – there was the golden chocolate drip. Crowley had made a rich dark chocolate sauce, the kind that was so thick, Dean could dip a spoon in it and let go, and the spoon would stand up by itself in the pot. With masterful technique, Crowley had drizzled the chocolate so that it dripped down the side of the cake in long, heavy beads. Using edible gold lustre dust – Dean was certain, beyond a sugary shadow of a doubt, that this somehow involved a bit of confection witchcraft – Crowley had delicately painted over the chocolate, so the sauce took on a bright, golden shimmer. It looked like an upside down fairy crown.

Crowley was right. Charlie was gonna love it.

“It’s a cake fit for a queen,” Dean pronounced, both as a compliment and a distraction as he surreptitiously reached across the counter. “A queen of punk unicorns and fairy hackers.”

“That certainly describes her highness,” Crowley smiled affectionately, casually pulling away the tray of frosted macarons eagerly waiting to be perched at the peak of celebratory jubilance. He procured a spatula, scraped down the frosting leftover in the mixing bowl, and handed it to Dean, as both consolation prize and determent from further thievery.

Dean might love his pie, but years of living with and baking for the Winchesters had taught Crowley that when it came to stealing sweets, the demon was the only one among them with any morals.

* * *

You know you wanna see what that cake looks like. It's a [Highway Unicorn Cake](https://www.thescranline.com/highway-unicorn-cake) by the talented Nick Makrides over at The Scran Line.

I did not intend to write this, but then I read Thayer’s [Icing On the Cake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664748). I’ve been working on my own Food Porn For Morons about delectable dishes Crowley would cook for the boys, and thinking about the next chapter of [Bergamot & Sulphur](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796125/chapters/46868137) which features Charlie, and a friend is (hopefully) hosting a late-May bash featuring a highway unicorn cake. Toss all that in a mixer, and this is what you get.

I’m not looking to win this month’s SPN Coldest Hits, so feel free to leave comments and kudos. I’ve got my fingers cross from some delectable and colorful promos on Tumblr for this fic, if anyone is interested. To read chapters of Bergamot & Sulphur, the canon-divergent tea-infused universe in which this fic is set, you can find that under my works on both AO3 and FanFiction.net. Thanks for reading!


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